


31 Flavors and Then Some

by ellethom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 100-300 words, F/M, I am crazy for doing this, Imma need one shot for every one shot, JBO Meet-Cute March Madness, Like I shoulda kept to my own rules, March Madness, More like around 500ish words?, Prompts are filled, So many one shots, There are no rules, What rules?, Where we're going, You can send more but no guarentees, meet cutes, okay I lied, one a day, we don't need rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 17,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9918968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellethom/pseuds/ellethom
Summary: A collection of ficlets from prompts given to me for meet cutes.You have been warned





	1. Girl Squire Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> Meet Cute prompts from the great people of the JB fandom. Most will be under 300 but I am willing to stretch that limit if need be....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is for the ever awesome December 13 who asked...
> 
> "Brienne is helping Pod sell scout cookies and she knocks at the door of neighborhoods resident grumpy and "mean" guy aka Jaime"

“W-we shouldn’t be here.” Pod shuffled his feet and looked around as if a pack of direwolves would come and eat them alive just for ringing the doorbell of the crankiest curmodgeon in their building.

“Nonsense, Pod. It’s Girl Squire Cookies. Everyone loves those. We promised Sansa that we would help her troop.” She talked a good game, but Brienne felt a small modicum of something as she rang the bell. Jaime Lannister was an asshole, he had once yelled at a young mother in the hallway because her infant was crying. 

Of course he came to the door in a robe, the tie was in danger of loosening at any moment, but the two stood their ground and started their pitch.

“You know, the condo association has rules about selling in the building.” He sneered at them. “And I doubt if either of you gentlemen are Girl Squires.”

Pod dropped the boxes he had been holding, but Brienne refused to be intimidated. “Mr. Lannister, we are selling these cookies for a good cause, and I assure you we have full approval of the condo association.” She looked at Pod, still clutching the boxes awkwardly as if he would bolt at any minute. “Now, about these cookies.”

Jaime’s glare raked over her flesh so intimately she felt the blush long after it had materialized over her freckled skin. He moved from his doorway, his robe opening with his movements like a stripper in a Cabaret. “Do you have any of those Thin Mints.” he purred. “I would do about anything for those.”

“Mr. Lannister,” she stammered. 

“I’ll take all of them, every single box of those Thin Mints you have.” he said again, his eyes holding hers. Brienne could see his robe wasn't long for closure and tried to avert her gaze.

Tried.

Pod materialized with a 12 box case and set them down by Jaime’s door. Jaime grinned at her as if they were the only two people in the hallway.

In the world.

“Seems I am a little light on cash right now, maybe I should take your number and you can come and get payment.” The blonde god seemed to be more than aware of both his robe's continued opening and her reaction to him. "Come back later," he whispered into her ear. "There is no telling what I might do for another case of those Thin Mints."


	2. Girl Squire Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a Prompt from IkkiM 
> 
> " Ghost Brienne has been haunting Winterfell for decades, only she's bad at it because she doesn't want to frighten anyone. Ghost Jaime moves in."

She had no idea why she stayed, her charges had long since passed, along with their charges and their own charges. Winterfell had changed and the faces were only sad indifferent reminders of those she had loved so fiercely. 

Chains rattled from above, no one in the overfilled family room seemed to take any notice. She heard them again, coming from...the attic?

Brienne smiled to herself, a ghost afraid of a...ghost?

She floated up the palatial stairwell toward the metallic sound. Of course it was the attic, where else would a ghost be?

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOooooo…” the otherworldly sound accompanied the rattling. This guy is obviously new, she thought to herself.

“Chains, really?” she huffed. The new resident turned at her voice. He was tall, blond and quite possibly the most handsome man, er ghost, she had ever seen.

“BOOOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOOoooOOOOO” he reiterated.

“Knock it off, that sound is annoying and the only person that can hear you, is me.”

He dropped his ethereal shackles and smirked. “No one told me this place is already inhabited.” he threw himself into an ancient and overstuffed wingback chair. “I can't believe it wasn't in the brochure.”

Brienne tilted her head in consideration. “Brochure?”

The ghostly god settled himself into his seat and offered her a golden smirk. “Yes, brochure. It’s my vacation, I wanted to ‘haunt’ something.”

“Most people choose to visit family.” Brienne folded her arms and drew nearer to the man.

“If you knew my family, you would find a nice monastery to haunt, too.” He glanced over her, and Brienne felt a shudder run through her, a feeling most impossible given her corporeal body had long since gone over to decomposition. “I suppose this will have to do.”

“A vacation? Ghosts don't take vacations.” she huffed.

“You must not get out much.” He studied her again and grinned. “Have you ever even left this place?”

“I have a duty to look after the--”

“Ahhhh, you’re one of those.” He stood then. 

"I am nothing of whatever sort you are imagining. I am here to make sure the Starks are safe and happy." she sniffed. "I look after them."

"And how long has that Stark you promised been dead for?" he asked with a twinkle. "I bet they all moved on to better places, you should too."

Brienne shook her head but did not move away from him. 

“You should get out, see the world. Not stay stuck here in this place.” He grabbed for his chains and looked at her.

“You should come with me. I can show you things that would make your ugly face set straight.” He held out his hand. “Come on, you need a vacation.”


	3. Biddable Maidens and Sharp Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TeamGwenee Asked for it...
> 
>  
> 
> "I'm a sucker for Arranged Marriage Aus."
> 
> We all get to enjoy it!

“I have absolutely no desire to marry.” Jaime snuffed arrogantly at his brother’s smirking face.

“It's a little late for that, innit?” the smaller man grinned. Tyrion waved his small arms around the still filling sept. “I hear your new wife is...quite the specimen.”

Jaime felt his legs slowly numbing from standing in front of the altar. “It doesn't matter, once she’s had an heir, I’ll not have to look on her again.”

The doors of the sept opened as two extremely tall figures emerged into the darkness of the sept. Jaime didn't bother to turn from where he stood. It made no difference that his new bride was considered the ugliest woman in Westeros, he would only have to concern himself with her until she gave his father the heir he wanted. 

The girl, if one could call her that, was tragically tall and even more tragically ugly. Jaime went through the motions of the ceremony and followed the crowd into the great hall of Casterly. She had not said anything more than her vows the entire time.

The food was lavish, the wine flowed all night. When the bedding was called, the silent plank cringed beside him; he had barely looked upon her the entire time, but here, here he noted a few things about his new Lady.

For one, she was bigger than him. She could not have been more than 16, Jaime himself was far from elderly but had at least ten years on her. 

Secondly, she had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Looking into them as she reached for the small knife on the table before them, Jaime suddenly felt the need to protect the girl. 

Without thinking, he stood and held out his hand, the other resting on the hilt of his sword. “Ladies, Lords. As much as we all love a good humiliation, there will be no bedding.” He looked down at her, Brienne that was her name. “I would much prefer to unwrap this particular gift in a more private location.”

He looked down at the hulking girl, who seemed to relax for the first time since he had met her at the altar a few hours ago. He smiled at her then, one she very nearly returned. It was the third thing, the third thing made him realize that this girl, this wife pressed upon him might be worth something more than a biddable maiden who would simper and bow at his every whim.

Jaime had realized that, as the great beast had grabbed for the knife, she fully intended to take as many out as she could along the way. He was certain it would have been a bloodbath, though he was now far less certain whose.


	4. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr asked: 
> 
> "Jaime needs plastic surgery after the loss of his hand. Brienne is in the waiting room for an appointment to look at her ruined cheek."

“It’s not who you are. It doesn't define you.”

Brienne turned to the voice at her right, unsure if she had imagined it. It sounded a lot like her shrink, but he was across town right now, and she was taking back her life in a small waiting room.

“You are more than a scar, just thought you should know.”

Brienne studied the man next to her, his candor incensed her. It was bad enough people already judged her for her size, shape and unattractiveness. The scar she received as a birthday gift from her ex husband was just beyond the beyonds. It was the one thing she could change, the one thing she had control over. She could love it or hate it or let it be her, no one had the right to tell her how to feel about it, not even a man with a face like a golden angel. 

The man next to her would know nothing about that, his face was something from a magazine you would take to bed on a lonely night; he was the swashbuckling hero on every bodice ripper she had ever denied reading. A man like that wouldn't know what it was like to spend your prom home alone. His smart casual dress was probably worth more than her car, the cashmere overcoat slung over his right arm would have put her through medical school. “What would you know about any of that?” she sneered. “You don't even know me.”

The blond lifted his chin as if in defiance. “No, I don't know you, but I know a little something about not letting an injury say who you are.” His hand reached as if to touch her face, but stopped just inches from her scar. 

“Jaime Lannister.” The pretty nurse called from the door leading to the back offices. Jaime stood and moved his coat to his other arm. Brienne understood then, with his expensive coat slung over his left arm, that, maybe he would know, a little something. She let the ghost of his not touch bloom across the still open wound of her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank you all enough for the onslaught of amazing prompts. I am humbled that you allow me to write your imaginations into life.
> 
> Thanks


	5. What's In the Box?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Mikki, the real MVP of this ship.
> 
> She requested:
> 
> "Dockworker Brienne is struggling with unloading a crate. It comes open and out comes Jaime."

Brienne hated her job.

It was an endless litany of crates: oversized crates, heavy crates, smelly crates, hazardous crates. Crates that reaked of pot, crates that reeked of things that woke her up in the middle of the night. It was too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. But, she needed to finish her Master's degree, and this was the only job that fit her class schedule and paid enough for her to live just above the poverty line.

Thanks unions.

The crate she was handling now was one of the heavier ones, she had used the crane to move it from the shipping palette on the boat onto the dock. Clegane had a thousand stories about what could climb out of those crates stuck on a boat too long, but Brienne had never expected this. 

It was heavy, and as she moved it, it shifted. Angrily. Brienne set the box down with a bang and took a cautious step back.

A leg. A long, booted and jeaned leg suddenly struck out from a hole in the bottom corner of the large crate. “Fuck!” Brienne leapt back from the box and looked around for someone to call the police for the (third) body she had come across in three months.

“Fuuuuuck.” the body begin to shift and move. With a thud it managed to crest the top of the box. “Where in the hell?” The man looked around his surroundings, confusion etched his haggard yet beautiful features. 

“What in the hell are you doing in there?” she asked before her good sense caught up to her.”

“What in the hell are you doing out there?” he fired back. The man rubbed his head and continued to look around. “I am gonna kill that evil, homunculus shit.”

“Excuse me?”

The man stood, if shakily and stretched. “Where am I exactly?” 

“Storm’s End.” 

A look of both shock and admiration seemed to flitter across his face. “Oh, he’s good. I’ll give him that. And this totally gets me for the time I checked him into a flight to Braavos as a seeing eye dog with a bladder control problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I put myself through college working at a UPS facility loading and unloading packages in the wee hours of the morning. We never got a body, but there were SEVERAL pot boxes that made me high just going near them.


	6. Hollow Weenie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For nanie who asked:
> 
> “They met in a masquerade ball (I’m in a carnival mood);”
> 
> I kinda went a bit...left with this one. Hope you don't mind...:)

Catelyn Stark arranged the fourth tray of Chocolate Dirt Cups and looked across the living room. She had not wanted to invite the Lannister Twins, but since their mother had died the past summer, the children seemed lost and lethargic.

Which, wasn't such a bad thing, the lethargy at least. Before that, they had been the worst kids in her sister’s kindergarten class. They were oddly attached as well. 

Ned strolled into the kitchen looking for scraps that he could nibble on. “The party is going great.” he told her with a kiss. “Rob and Jon are having a blast.”

She nodded, loathe to acknowledge that her sister in law’s son was held in the same regard as her own son. Lyanna had run off with a married man, but neither one wanted to raise a kid. They were far too busy with each other. One court date and Catelyn found herself the mother of six rather than five. “The kids are going to be too riled up to sleep tonight.” she sighed. 

Cersei Lannister came into the kitchen, her costume was an odd decision of black. Catelyn had congratulated her on being a witch, until the girl had yelled that she was a Queen and would smite her for her insolence. “Miss Catelyn, make them stop.” she insisted. 

Catelyn came around the island and kneeled in front of the little girl. “Is someone teasing you, honey? Show me who it is, and I will make sure they stop.”

Cersei shook her head and looked as if to cry. “Noooo,” she whined. “They won’t stop. Jaime is my brother, but he keeps following around the bear.” She stomped her little foot hard enough for her tiara to skew atop her pretty golden head. “They are playing stupid swords together and no one will rescue me from the tower.” She pointed to the bouncy castle where Catelyn could see the bear and the little boy dressed as a knight, fighting with toy swords. 

Catelyn stood and sighed, she mentally considered every one of the twelve children at the party until she remembered who was in the bear costume. 

This would be fun. “Cersei, Sansa is in the other room playing with the girls, why don't you go and see them?” Catelyn tried, but that had not worked on the bear either.

“NO!” The little girl said again, her threatened tears finally began to spill. “I don't wanna play with stupid Sansa!”

“Cersei!” Ned interjected. He pulled out his phone to call Tywin to come and pick up his awful children, but Catelyn shook her head at him silently. Six kids had taught Catelyn a little something about child psychology.

“Cersei, I need the help of a queen, I need to make sure all the loyal subjects receive their paltry wages.” she pointed to the tray of chocolate pudding. “Could you help me?”

“Can we poison the bear’s?” Cersei asked with a sudden gleam in her wildfire eyes.


	7. Hackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MissingApart asked: 
> 
> “OK, so how about Jaime and Brienne are both hackers, and only know each other's screen names, but are the best friends only online without actually meeting. But moves next door to each other and they're offline personalities rub each other the wrong way, until they don't anyone ;) ;)”

“You keep looking out the window as if you are awaiting the WBI.” Tyrion took another bite of the burnt bacon and belched. “Who’d you hack this time?”

“I really have no idea what you are talking about little brother.” Jaime chuffed but did not break contact with his target. “I haven't been into any of that since that Dornish incident.”

Tyrion was aware of that one, his brother had faced real jail time for bringing down Targaryen Industries with a nasty little virus of his own creation. The press had deemed it corporate sabotage, but Tyrion alone knew how personal that job had been. “What are you doing?”

Jaime spoke from his perch by the window in his living room that faced the modest house next door. The truth was, Jaime did not live here, this house was a dummy for his work, his hobby. “The new neighbor,” he finally said. “Is draining the bandwidth in this neighborhood.”

Tyrion took another piece of bacon from his brother’s plate. “You don't say?” he grinned. “You think he might be one of your own?”

Jaime shook his head. “Nah, probably not. It's a tall, ugly woman of all things. She probably streams a lot of Real Housewives and Nora Ephron audiobooks.”

“That’s vaguely sexist, Jaime.” Tyrion accused. 

“She does have the most astonishing blue eyes.” Jaime admitted in a wistful tone that Tyrion was certain his brother was unaware of. 

“Really?” Tyrion smirked. “How interesting.

“The thing is,” Jaim finally turned and sat down at the table across from Tyrion. “It's really putting the strain on my work.”

“I thought you said...” Tyrion trailed off at Jaime’s pointed look. “Well, whatever. Maybe it's time to move base, anyway. I would hate for father to have to bail you out again. The next time you’ll be setting up secure networks at Lannister Inc.”

“Hah, as if that would happen.” Jaime poured them both a dram of the whiskey that had been sitting on the table. “No, I need to get over there and see what she is doing.”

“Speaking of the color blue,” Tyrion hoped to redirect his older brother much like a hyperactive toddler on Halloween. “How’s that online thing you been crafting the last year, what’s her name? Blue Balls, Blue Waffle…”

“Blue Maid.” jaime corrected his brother unnecessarily. Tyrion knew all too well about the mystery girl who had become part of Jaime’s online community of do gooders. “She’s great, still won't meet me, though.”

Tyrion poured them another glass each. “Probably for the best, Jaime.” he said kindly. “Wouldn’t want you to get Catfished.”

Jaime shook his head. “You know full well we don't use real pictures for our identities anyway.” Jaime took pensive for a moment. “Still. She has been a real help this last year. Could not have gotten Stoneheart Inc. to close down without her.”

“That was you?” Tyrion railed suddenly. “That was a big deal. Those traders were bankrupting 401k’s from here to Essos.”

“Shhhh!!” Jaime insisted. “keep your voice down and your mouth shut about it. I told you, I had help.” Jaime reached for his MacBook and began to punch at the keyboard in an increasingly angry pace. “Damn it! My connection is too slow.” He looked around and began picking up items around the room. “I’m going in.”

Tyrion stood, certain Jaime was lining himself up for another arrest. “Jaime, wait, how do you know it's her?”

“This all started when she moved in!” Jaime insisted.

“Have you tried a more...nefarious approach?”

Jaime nodded. “For some reason, her system is airtight. She probably has a little brother or husband that has helped her secure her network. Tyrion, just stay here and don't touch anything!” With that, Tyrion watched him slam out of the back door and storm across the small yard to the door of the neighbor.

Jaime had left his computer up, just then it dinged. The text box for Blue Maid came to life. “Hold on, there is someone at my door. Probably my asshole neighbor. Brb.”

Popcorn, Tyrion grinned to himself as he whistled his way to the kitchen. Every good show demands it.


	8. Dude, Where's My Car?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KsW asked: 
> 
> ‘I think you just loaded your groceries in my car.’

“Are you blind, inebriated, or just the tow headed plank you appear to be?”

Brienne turned toward the voice as she situated the last bag of groceries into the back of Renly’s oversized SUV. “What?” She tried with all the intimidation she was accustomed to imparting on others without even trying. 

The man was nearly as tall as her, and nearly as broad, but that was where the comparison ended. He looked like he had just walked off the runway of some men’s fashion week. He stood with his arms crossed and a plastic bag dangling from his hand. “Ah, so you are deaf.” he said with a grin. “This. Is. My. Car.” he said in the loud and pointed dialogue of someone speaking with the hearing impaired.

“This is my friend’s car.” she fired back, matching his pose. “And don't be an idiot, I hear just fine.”

Her nodded, unfolded his arms and clicked the auto starter. “You were saying?” he asked.

Brienne was sure that she had managed a new shade of red as the SUV came to life. Thinking back, she was certain she had opened the back door to find it was already unlocked and had found it strange. “I’m sorry,” she flustered, removing her bags and trying to place them back into her cart. “It’s not really my car--”

“Obviously,” he said with that arrogant smirk that the beautiful were born sporting. 

He had reached over and began helping her load the groceries into her cart. “No, I mean, this is my friend’s car. I was getting his groceries, he’s been...sick.”

The man nodded as the fitted the last bag into the metal cart. “Ah, a do-gooder.” 

Brienne shook her head. “No, he’s...He has been good to me when others haven’t. His husband has been away and I promised Loras I would--”

The blonde man frowned. “Loras? Loras Tyrell.” He took another look at her. “Of course the little tulip would have even gotten the same color.”

“That is an abhorrent way to describe--” she stopped and considered the man next to her. “Wait you know Loras?”

He shrugged. “And his husband, Renly is my brother in law, actually. He drooled when he first saw my Viserion RXL, I just never thought he would get the exact same car!” He held his hand out to her and Brienne found herself moved to take it. An electric shock moved through her arm when their hands met, he must have felt it too, for he moved his hand away and took a step back, considering his right hand as if it had just been amputated. “I’m, uh…” he moved toward the driver’s door.

She nodded, but watched him slide into his seat. That shock, that feeling of familiarity and comfort and everything soft and beautiful when their hands had met. Brienne was far from romantic, she had heard of the Thunderbolt, but thought it was fiction.

Until now.

She pushed her cart to the next aisle, still feeling woozy and lost. As she finished loading the last bag into the back of the right car, a figure appeared next to her nearly as silently as the rain.

“You left one.” he smiled, handing her a bad filled with milk and green peppers. “This one had the receipt, would hate for you to forget that.” he smiled and walked away again, Brienne fought herself but watched him move against her own better judgement. He moved like a cat, a large, yellow cat with all the surety of being king of the jungle.

She sighed, of course the one time she would feel the Thunderbolt, it would be one sided. 

Brienne tossed the nearly forgotten bag onto the passenger seat and slumped into her own seat. The receipt fell out of the bag as she slipped into reverse and moved out of the parking spot. 

The receipt was standard, but as she held it to shove back into the bag she noticed red writing on it. 

As she studied the shakily written note and number on the back of the receipt, Brienne recalled that Renly was lactose intolerant and green peppers had not been on the shopping list.


	9. Dial "M" for Mundane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 asked:
> 
> “Ahem... So, what if Jaime calls a sex line, mistakes the number and gets Brienne on the other end of the phone? She doesn't even manage to say proper "hello, I think you made mistake" and he's in a "mood" and... well, minutes pass…”
> 
> There is a Star Trek reference in here if you squint....

“I hope they don't pay you for your sexy talk. You are extraordinarily bad at it.”

“As I mentioned before, Ser. You have dialed a culinary institute. We offer this line for food emergencies and you are tying up the like for more serious issues.”

Jaime scuffed, “Serious issues? What kind of emergency situations could arise from cooking? I mean, other than anything that could be solved by called the actual emergency numbers?”

A small breath of a laugh dribbled over the connection. “You’d be surprised.” she said.

“Do tell?” Jaime slid further into his suede couch, his hand strolling further, something about the woman’s voice, something...sensual, was just what he needed. 

“Ser, I don't think this is a culinary emergency.” she said. “I need to free up this line for real--”

“Ok, Okay!” Jaime was desperate, suddenly not wanting to end the call. “I have a culinary emergency. It's a...turkey.” 

“I find that hard to believe, ser.” the girl’s voice came through as an annoyed huff.

“I do, I really do. I have an important dinner party in ten minutes, and my turkey is in crisis.”

She huffed but went on. “Please state the nature of your culinary emergency.” she said, suddenly all business. “You say it's a turkey?”

“It's a very dirty turkey.” Jaime found himself smirking as if she could see his face, but her voice was sure to bring the relief he so desperately needed. 

It had been a long year. 

“Ser, you are aware that you should thoroughly wash your poultry before even prepping it for--”

Jaime sighed, “IT’s beyond dirty, more naughty than anything.” He smiled to himself. “It's been a very naughty turkey.”

“Ser, a turkey is incapable of being naughty. What stage of preparation are you in.”

“Oh, I’m about halfway there,” he purred. “But this naughty turkey won’t let me...er it won’t finish.”

“Is it stuffed?” 

Jaime nearly coughed at the implication, “Uhm what?” he struggled. 

She sighed over the line. “The turkey, Ser. The naughty one. Is it stuffed?”

“Only if it wants to be.” he said. 

“Ser,” 

”No, the turkey isn't stuffed. It should be, though.”

“Not necessarily. While, traditionally, people used various foods to stuff the turkey with, it's the recommendation of the Westerosi Culinary Institute that you do not stuff the turkey.” Her voice cadenced into complete professionalism. The authority of her diatribe about health and safety regarding stuffing a turkey was far more arousing than Jaime felt possible. “What?” he asked once he realized he had asked her another question.

“How often have you basted it?”

“About twice daily over the last year?” he returned.

“What?” she screeched.

“What?” he asked. 

“We’re not talking about a turkey, are we, Ser?”

“No,” he admitted. “And, its Jaime. My name is Jaime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December, I have no idea why your prompts bring out the freak in my writing.


	10. A Hand Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For RosanaB who asked:
> 
> “I was thinking that maybe Jaime is in Tarth for a work thing and his rental car breaks down and Brienne is the tow truck driver. Or something along those lines. I don't know lol, I just would really like her to drive a truck and Jaime would be a complete asshole to her, teasing her about ugly women doing traditionally masculine jobs, and she would give as good as she got and he would end up fascinated by her :)”

When the tow truck had arrived, Jaime had assumed it would be a five minute twist of a screwdriver and he would be back on his way. His awareness of auto repair extended as far as writing a check and returning when the repairs were finished.

The WAA mechanic spilled out of the tow truck that had parked in front of him. As he made his way around the truck, Jaime was struck by the ass on the man. In fact, that ass alone was causing his pants to become...uncomfortable. “How in the hell does a man get an ass like that?” he asked as he readjusted himself in his seat. “And what does that say about me that I have gone full on salute just looking at it?”

Then, the buff, tall mechanic turned around. A woman! Jaime sighed, both relieved and oddly fascinated. She had a face only a mother could love, straw blond hair. But her eyes, they were quite remarkable.

“Mr. Lannister,” She said from the driver’s side window. Up close, Jaie realized her face was uglier, but her eyes were far more alluring.

“You’re the mechanic?” he spoke in his best arrogant tone. The same one he used for the endless amount of servants he had to deal with in his life.

“I assure you I have many qualifications, Mr. Lannister.”

He waved away her argument. “No, I was expecting someone more...male. Although,” his eyes scanned her face and broad shoulders. “I suppose someone as manly as you could keep the profession strictly masculine.”

She raised herself to her full height, and even still seated in the driver’s seat of his expensive car, Jaime could see she was taller than him. “Please pop the hood, Mr; Lannister.” she sneered. 

He did as asked and could not help himself from watching her hips sway as she walked to the front of his car. Once the hood was up, Jaime could no longer have a clear view of her. That wouldn't do.

He emerged from the car and stretched his long legs. She was hunched over the engine, a rag in one hand and surprisingly long fingers gripped a socket wrench. He stood for a time, admiring her form; long limbs, solid thick neck, corded muscles peaked from the tips of her overalls. “Not too close, Mr. Lannister, wouldn't want you to break a nail.”

“I suppose i had that one coming. Someone like you, you seem born to this kind of work.”

“Someone like you would seem to spend hours in front of a mirror getting prettied up.” she spat, but did not turn to look at him as she spoke. “And, it may surprise you to know that this is my summer job.”

“Really?” He smirked. “You’re a student?”

“Veterinary School.” She wiped her hands on the rag. “Go and give her a start, please.”

Jaime shrugged but reached into the driver’s window and turned the key. The purr of the engine was like music to his ears. He grinned at her as she slammed the hood down and tucked the red rag into her belt. “You’re good to go, Mr. Lannister. Just stop at the next town and get her checked through to be sure. Have them check the manifold.”

“Whatever that is.” he smiled. “Thank you seems so shallow.” He drew a breath and came close to her “So, do Vet school students go out for drinks?”

"That is hardly appropriate, Ser." She said, turning to get into her tow truck.

"No," Jaime smiled and followed her. It was his turn to lean into the driver's window. "What's would have been inappropriate is to tell say that your ass has been driving me crazy for the last fifteen minutes."

She gawped at him like a fish out of water, for want of words. Jaime took a chance and leaned into the truck further. "Nice ass, by the way."


	11. Thrift Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For TeamGwenee who asked 
> 
> “ a modern Au set in a clothes shop where Jaime keeps on giving Brienne completely unwanted advice on what to buy.”

He saw the gangly thing shuffle across the men’s section of the Thrift Shop that his brother had dragged him into assuring him that the clothes and items were Vintage, not Used.

At first, he had thought it was a man that moved around the tall man’s section, but then she had turned around, had turned into a woman seemingly right before his eyes when the shambling creature had ventured past a blue silk dress for the tenth time as if it were some fearsome beast to be both feared and appreciated. 

Tyrion’s real reason for his interest in the Thrift shop was currently giggling at his brother’s flirtations. Behind an antique cash register, tortoise shell glasses were off and she was openly flirting back. 

This was going to be a while,

Jaime angled toward the ugly woman, her too tall form was back in men’s jeans and her face was set in determined irritation.

“For gods sake, those jeans are beyond ugly!” The girl continued to ignore him, so Jaime decided it was an invitation to dig deep inside and reach for his inner asshole. “Well, on second thought, the ugliness of those jeans might just de-emphasize that face, so...by all means.” He waved arrogantly.

She turned blue eyes on him and Jaime felt his heart stop for a complete three seconds. Her eyes were the color of pure joy. Even with the hurt and irritation lurking around them at his completely unwarranted humiliation, he could see the beauty of those eyes placed in a face that was more unfortunate than he had ever seen. 

She turned and stormed over to the next rack in an effort to further ignore him. Jaime Lannister wasn't the kind of man accustomed to being ignored, he had attention from the moment of his privileged birth. She was now examining a plaid shirt that looked like it had once been owned by the largest Grunge fan in existence. “Plaid, really? What are you? A dock worker? A longshoreman...er woman? He allowed his eyes to rake over her. “You are a woman, right?”

The girl looked at him, opened her mouth to say something but turned and stormed out of the glass door; the bell over the exit tinkled with majesty at her rapid departure.

Tortoise Shell glasses ran over to him with Tyrion close at her heels. The girl was short and cute in a girl next door way. Not his Tyrion's usual type. Plus, Jaime was quite sure she wasn't a prostitute.

“Why did she leave?” Tortoise Shell glasses asked, her elfin face scrunched in consternation. “Brienne is one of our best customers. She comes here all the time, I’ve never seen her leave like that.”

Tyrion turned his mismatched eyes onto his brother and squinted in consternation. “Yeah, Jaime, what did you do?”

“Me? Nothing.” he shrugged but continued to look out the glass door as if willing her to return. “She just needs a thicker skin.”

Tyrion studied him for a moment then shook his head with a sigh. “You really need to work on your technique, Jaime. Pulling pigtails is so fourth grade.” 

Tortoise Shell Glasses looked between the brothers, “what’s going on? Tyrion, tell me what’s going on?”

The brothers were silent until Jaime spoke up. “You know her? The tall girl?’ The shop girl nodded. “I need a favor, an apology actually.”

Tyrion spoke then. “Tysha, My brother is an ass, he quite possibly ran off your best customer, and he has more issues than Time Magazine.” He sighed again. “But, he seems to have found something here at the Thrift Shop after all.”

“Vintage, Tyrion.” Tysha huffed. 

Tyrion nodded. “Of course. But if it's in your power to help this poor man quite possibly find the woman of his dreams, I would appreciate it beyond words.”

Tysha nodded, and Jaime dove in. “I don't think she will see me, but.” he pointed across the women's section. “I think that dress would match her eyes. I pay for it, you get it to her?

“Please?” Tyrion added.

Tysha nodded. “You owe me, Tyrion. And if he hurts her, I will kill him myself.”

Tyrion nodded and looked at his brother eyeing the blue silk dress as if it were the last morsel of food he would ever get to have. “I don't think he’ll hurt her.” he shrugged. “And you know about Lannisters and debts.”


	12. Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I got Love in My Tummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr asked:
> 
> “Meet-cute. Brienne grabs the last Yummy Bar at the grocery. Jaime is desperate for the chocolatey goodness.”

“Listen, I realize given your...size and stature you need to have this one Yummy Bar, but I am telling you, if I don't get this thing into my mouth, now, bad shit is gonna happen.”

“Excuse me?” Brienne had a firm grip on 3 ounces of redemption, she’d had the worst day, and this was the one thing that was going to go right today. “I’m sure you are aware that there are 17 other flavors available. Go and get one of those.”

“I want the Double Dark Chocolate, it's my favorite.” He said.

“Mine too!” Brienne clutched the treat closer to herself. “Try another store!” 

The Golden God In A Three Piece Suit edged closer, too close. “I will give you a thousand dragons for that bar.”

“What? No!” she gripped the bar tighter.

“Two thousand Dragons?”

“No.”

He slid his eyes up and down her form, Brienne felt suddenly naked. “A date.”

“You are insane.” she stepped further into the checkout line.

He moved closer into her space. “We could go out into my car right now and I will make you completely forget whatever reason it is you feel you need that Yummy Bar.” He blew into her ear. 

“This is harassment, Ser.” she mumbled, but felt the heat from his words pool in her center. A distant, traitorous voice told her to go, get it in. When was the last time she had felt that good, just from a few words? Let alone from a complete stranger.

He was at her elbow, she could feel his expensive cologne working it's way into her skin. His voice whispered into her ear leaving a flutter of promised ecstasy in it's wake. “A kiss.”

She was next in line, her Yummy Bar seemingly the only semblance of rationality, so she held onto it for dear life. His hand closed around the one holding the candy bar. “Leave it,” He said. His mouth slid along the nape of her neck. “I’ll take you to the MegaMarket, we can get plenty for both of us.”


	13. The Drive By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Openmouthwideeye asked:
> 
> “Brienne nannies for the Starks. The kids start tormenting a random stranger who, as it turns out, has a notoriously rocky history with the family.”
> 
> Honestly, this was the first thing I thought of when I got this prompt, please read the whole thing before sending flames,

Bran wasn’t sure if he would survive this. 

They had promised Brienne they were only going to take a few spins around the neighborhood. That they were only going to get a few miles of driving practice in. Since his dad had died, Bran and his siblings were cared for by their stalwart nanny while their frazzled mother did everything to keep them afloat.

They all liked Brienne, but the problem wasn't his siblings; the problem was their foster brother who, from his questionable background, had more than questionable morals. 

Said problem was now riding shotgun. Literally. Theon Greyjoy had a cigarette jammed between his meaty lips and was grinning quite like an idiot. 

“Theon,” Bran tried again. “Don’t, please.” He hated how small his voice sounded. 

pleasedon’tpleasedon’tpleasedon’tpleasedon’tpleasedon’tpleasedon’t

Theon grinned bigger and took a last long pull of his beer before setting it down by his feet. “I hate that dog,” was all he said as he began loading the shell into the 30 aught 6 in his hands.

Please gods, don't let him do it. Let the gun jam, let Theon miss. I swear I will never again drink, smoke, or anything a 15 year old isn't supposed to do. Please. 

But, Theon was a marksman, he never missed. “I don't like the man either,” Bran tried. “But the dog, Theon? You can't shoot a dog!”

Bran wanted to dip onto the floor of the car, but he couldn't He was the driver. “I really hate that little yippy mutt.” Theon reiterated as if Bran had not heard his foster brother’s rant a hundred times before. The boy could not help think that if his older brothers were there, this never would have happened. Jon would have decked him, Robb would have beat the living shit out of Theon, taken the gun and rammed it up his ass. 

But Bran wasn't like them, he was smaller and more sickly than even his younger brother Rickon. He knew Theon was going to do what Theon wanted to do and consequences be damned. “Please, Theon. Don't.”

Theon turned to him again and gave Bran a rueful look as he rolled the window down. Theon hauled half his head and body out of the window, took aim and fired.

\------------------

Brienne had just put dinner in the oven when the doorbell rang. She mentally checked off who was home and who wasn't. Realizing she and Rickon were the only two in the house she sighed, wondering which kid left their keys this time. 

But it wasn't any of the Stark children under her charge. It was a man, a blonde man dressed like he had just returned home from work. “Yes?” she asked. Brienne could not help the blush that began to crawl across her face. This man, was beauty made flesh. His green eyes blazed with fire and his mouth was quirked into a grimace of anger.

“You’re not Mrs. Stark.” he said unnecessarily.

“She is away for business. I’m Brienne, the nanny.”

“Ah, then you’re the one that set them free to roam wild.”

“Excuse me?” The blush was gone, replaced with anger. “The Starks are good kids, “

“Good, then they can help me find my dog.” The man held out from his right hand a shortened chain, the end was gnarled and looked as if it had been shot through. “This has that Greyjoy psychopath written all over it. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could take full credit for this story, but its actually from one of my favorite songs, The Drive By by Glen Phillips. Its not even his story, he got the story from Ben Folds as a true event.
> 
> Its one of my favorite songs, you can hear it here.
> 
> https://youtu.be/WtTdg55mtyA


	14. Taking the Piss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For jaimebrienneonline (its Mikki!) who asked:
> 
> Drunken Jaime accidentally walks in on Brienne in the ladies' room.

“You’re pissing in the sink!” Brienne crowed, the late night club was way, way down on her list of fun things to do on a Saturday night, but she had promised Dr. Stark that she would look after her daughters, and that, unfortunately included following them to this club and sitting in a position where she could ensure that no one messed with them.

The blonde man turned around from his task, staggered as he continued to let loose a seemingly unending stream into the ladies room sink.. “Clearly this is a urinal.“ 

“”Urinals are in the men’s bathroom. You’re in the ladies room.”

He through his head back, tapped out one last stream and tucked himself back into his pants. “Then we are both wrong.” he grinned. “Guess we have both had too much to drink. I won't tell if you don't."

“You’re an ass.” Brienne washed her hands in the unmolested sink.

“And you’re a...woman?” He grinned a dazzling smile that made Brienne’s world tilt to one side. “I guess I’m the one who’s had a little too much to drink.”

Brienne huffed and ripped off a paper towel to dry her hands. “I’m sorry, i did not mean to offend your delicate sensibilities. Please forgive me.” he said, hands reaching for her. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Wash your hands, first.” she smiled.


	15. Tantrums and Tiaras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 asked:
> 
> Toddlers and tiarras... Jaime and Brienne are supporting their relatives when they clash. Or Jaime is a pageant organizer who is angry that a man, whoops, a woman who came there to support her sister/cousin is giving the stinky eye to the whole event

“Docket number W4568811124, The Realm vs. Brienne Tarth.”

Brienne stood as her case was called, the time of humiliation had been the arrest. She couldn't believe her life had come to this. All she had wanted to do was a favor for a friend, and somehow she ended up with assault charges.

The judge, Barristan Selmy, seemed preoccupied with order. He shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. “Miss Tarth. You stand before this court for indictment on charges of assault with malicious intent, how do you plead?”

She looked over at her lawyer, Mrs. Stark was kind enough to come from her office at the last minute to ensure that her friend didn't face court without proper representation. “Not guilty, “ Catelyn said in her steely voice.

Judge Selmy eyed her over his glasses. “Prosecution?”

The DA was a hard looking man, small but with a stern face. “The defendant is accused of dousing the victim’s pants with a flammable li--”

“Perfume, Your Honor.” Mrs. Stark spoke up. “It was perfume.”

“Alcohol based and highly flammable.” DA Baratheon interrupted. “She then went on to light a match.”

Brienne was warned not to show any emotion during her bail hearing, but the memory of what she had done was visible across her broad homely face. 

To be fair, the blond man was insufferable in his bid to get his niece the tiara at the competition. He chose every opportunity to bash Brienne; her looks, her size, her hair, her clothes. Brienne had been accustomed to taunts in her life, but to have them hurled at her in the presence of Sansa Stark was just too much.

“Mr. Lannister was being characteristically, foul.” Mrs. Stark interjected. 

“Are you saying he was asking for it?” Judge Selmy raised an eyebrow over his wire frames. “Is that the defence you are going with Mrs. Stark?”

“No,” Mrs. Stark sighed. “But my client was in fear for her life.”

Brienne could hear the titters in the courtroom. Her size, again. It always came back to that.

“Well, to be fair,” a voice came from somewhere in chairs. “I was kind of a dick.”

The court erupted at the outburst, Selmy banged his gavel three times and threatened to empty the court. “Mr. Lannister, you are not allowed to give any testimony at this time. This is merely a bail hearing.”

The blond from the competition shrugged in his seat and stood. “Sorry, but what’s fair is fair. Miss Tarth was merely defending herself against my otherwise unwarranted attentions.”

More laughter throughout, Brienne blushed at the implication. It had not gone down like that, but she was woefully overwhelmed to shout him down. Catelyn placed a hand on her arm and shook her head to warn her against speaking.

“I mean,” Jaime Lannister went on, He cast his verdant eyes at her and gave her a look like she was the last bit of water in the desert. “You can't start a fire when there was already one slowly roasting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm no lawyer, but I had clocked in a hella amount of hours watching Law and Order. Anything I got wrong about a bail hearing is totally on me.


	16. Trust, But Vet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coraleeveritas Asked:
> 
> “How about Jaime is taking his dog to the vet for a check up, the normal vet is out sick and in walks Brienne. “

He could tell she was casting all kinds of quirky little comebacks about his choice of pet when she entered the examining room. The tall plank looked at him, then his pink poodle, then at him again. A smile tugged at the corners of her too thick lips as she made her pleasantries and bedside manners. 

“What seems to be the problem, here Mr. Lannister?” she asked, her large hands holding onto the chart as if to bash him with it at any moment. 

“The problem is, you are not Glory’s usual Vet. where is Dr. Dayne?” He scooted the trembling poodle further toward him as if protecting the dog from the giant who meant to have him for dinner.

“Dr. Dayne is on Paternity leave, he asked me to fill in for his patients.” She huffed as if this were the tenth time today she was explaining it. “Mr. Lannister, I assure you, Glory is in good hands.”

Jaime side eyed her but allowed her to approach his prized baby. “He doesn't like strangers.” Jaime explained as she nodded.

“So, why the visit?”

Jaime stared at her as if she had sprouted a new head. “My d--niece decided Glory needed a spa day.” he pointed to the dog who's hot pink fur also matched the pink toenails. 

“I see,” she nodded with a grin. “I thought you had done that. “

“Really?” What kind of asshole do you think I am? I would never use this color.” He smiled and she returned it, the smile reached her eyes and it was a gut punch for him; she may have been the tallest, gangliest and ugliest woman he had ever seen, but her eyes belonged in a poem. 

“You’d be surprised how many people actually purposefully die their poodles. For shows.” She made a note on her chart. “The dye should wear off, Mr. Lannister. Glory won’t have any lasting effects. Just, try to keep your niece away from him.”

Jaime nodded and scooped the toy poodle into his arms. “Right, that will be no problem. Now.” he sighed with a sadness that crossed his elegant features. “Thanks , Doc.”

Brienne finished the notations on the chart. “Any other issues with Glory?” she asked. 

Jaime shook his head. “When will Dr. Dayne return?”

“A week from Tuesday, I am sure you will be happy to have your regular vet back.” She turned on her heel and left the examining room.

“Not necessarily,” Jaime grinned and snuggled Glory into his arms. 

\------------

Jaime was sitting in the waiting room three days later with a noisy and jittery toy poodle. He looked up at the door as the tall veterinarian came out to see him. “Mr. Lannister,” she pointed to the blue dog scampering around the room. “I thought you said you would keep him away from your niece.”

“Her,” Jaime smiled into his correction. “This one is Honor.” He stood and moved toward her. “This one, I dyed myself.”


	17. Lost with Translations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> StPauliGirl Asked:
> 
> Prompt: In a foreign city, and stuck/struggling with a situation because they don't speak the language. The other person steps in and "rescues" them. (You can choose who is in each role.)

The tall Dothraki was grinning at her, Brienne grinned back, unsure if he understood her bastard Dothraki. HE made a motion behind her and she turned to look at where he was gesturing. 

Brienne hadn't wanted to come out for the dig at Vaes Dothrak, but she would have been a fool to pass on a chance to work with uncovering newly discovered ruins of the ancient parts of the foreign city. Her department head was quite insistent that she represent the University. 

Brienne sighed, feeling herself wilting in the heat. The large Dothraki was either asking to see her allocation papers or was asking for the bathroom.

She wasn't sure which. 

He spoke again, and Brienne frowned, unsure of her wording. The heavy pack was adding to the wooziness and feeling of disorientation. The man in front of her offered her a bottle of water and made another motion to something behind her. 

Brienne felt an arm snake around her waist; she jumped at the contact. “Easy there, Wench.” The blond man muttered into her ear and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Just follow along, okay?”

She turned and frowned into the beautiful faced stranger. “What in the fresh hell are you doing?” she asked. 

“Saving you,” The stranger turned to the large Dothraki and gave him a leer, he then said something in perfect Dothraki that deflated the giant in front of them. The Dothraki spit at their feet and sauntered off toward the tent that housed the local governmental overseers of the project.

He was still holding her around the waist after the Dothraki had stomped into his tent. “What the hell?” she asked, suddenly aware of his presence.

“Is that any way to thank your rescuer?” he asked with a grin “Knights used to get kisses, I get shoves.”

“You saved me from nothing.” She huffed and readjusted her day pack. 

“He was propositioning you, I stepped in so he would understand your fine ass is definitely off the daily specials. You’re welcome. Wife.” His smile seemed to put the sun to shame, but Brienne was completely nonplussed.

“You’re not serious.” she fumed. “And even if he was, I could have handled it. Whoever you are.”

“Whoever I am just saved you from either being molested or causing an international incident. Wench.”

Brienne began walking toward her part of camp. “Dothrakis aren't known for their understanding of the word, ‘no.’” he shouted after her retreating form. 

"Still could have handled it myself," she shouted back.

“You’re welcome, again. Wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * My headcanon for this one is that Jaime spends the entire dig referring to her as his wife, without ever exchanging names. Stop, I've said too much of this one is voted on. 
> 
> Did I mention the extended remix will include smut?
> 
> Oh, there shall be smut
> 
> To clarify, whichever story wins the month, there shall be smut in it. This one or any of the other prompts, there shall be smut I may be typing with my eyes closed and a minister on speed dial.
> 
> But, there will be SMUT!


	18. No Substitute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> darlingofthewesterlands asked:
> 
> Elementary school staffroom, amongst terrible coffee and marking books. Brienne is the substitute teacher in for the day, Jaime is told by Principal Baratheon to show her where everything is.

“You’re the substitute teacher.” The tall blonde jumped at his words. 

Skittish, she wouldn't last long, he grinned to himself. As if her size and looks weren’t going to mark her with the students, she had to also be a shaker.

“Yes,” the woman nodded and held her hand out to him. “Brienne Tarth.”

Jaime hesitated before taking her hand. He could not help but notice her eyes. They were remarkable if only for seeming misplaced on her face. “You’re filling in for Mrs Frey, she’s out for maternity. Again.”

Brienne nodded. “I’m sure she appreciates her colleagues support.” Jaime smirked at her soft peddled dig. Not a gossiper either. At least that was one mark to the good. 

“Robert asked that I show you around? We’ve like,” he looked at his watch, “thirty five minutes before the zoo opens.”

Brienne frowned at his allegory. Oh well, not to terribly bright. “Come on, you’ve already seen enough of the staffroom. “

She followed him out of the room and walked beside him through the halls of Westeros Prep. The school was high end but still maintained a reputation as ‘rough.’ “What do you teach?” she asked as they climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. 

“AP Chemistry, AP Physics and Home Ec.”

“Seriously?” she asked with what could pass as a grin on her homely face.

“Are you a sexist, Miss Tarth? You don't think a man could cook or teach young minds how to develop necessary life skills?”

She flustered and turned red. Good. He got her. “No, no, I just find it incongruous that you teach hard sciences and…sewing.”

Jaime smiled at her bluster. “You’d be surprised what a disowned rich boy could learn.” He opened the door to the gym and waved her inside. “Here’s where you will be for the next two months or so.” 

Her eyes widened at the idea. “You knew it was PE, right?” he drawled. “Girls freshman Phys Ed. to be exact.”

The tall woman tugged at her smart pantsuit and sighed. “I’m not dressed for PE.” she said to herself. 

Jaime gave her a solid whack on her back and turned on his most dazzling smile. “A woman like you, with your obvious physical….accouterments? I’m sure you can handle it “

She waved the papers in her hand at his face. “But, the lesson plans are for…”

He nodded. “Yeah, our Academic Coordinator is a bit of a lush, she mixes things up all the time.”

She looked as if she would bolt, Jaime could relate to that. He hadn’t wanted to teach either, but he had few choices when he decided to break from his family. “I’m, not sure…” 

“No, you’re Miss Tarth, Physical Education teacher until Mrs. Frey squats out her tenth foal.”

“Mr. Lannister!” She all but shouts. “That is so demeaning.”

Jaime shrugs, turns on his heel. “Have fun with them, Tarth. I am sure they are going to love you.”

\----------

His burly brother in law slaps him on the back and laughs. “Did you give her the full tour?” the oafish man guffaws. Robert Baratheon was under the misguided impression that all female teachers were, as he put it, ‘open for business.’

Jaime grits his teeth at the implication. “Sure,” he said. “She’ll fit right in.”

Mrs. Stark cornered him in the staff room with a stack of papers in her hands. “Where is Ms. Tarth? I thought you were going to show her around?” 

Jaime grins to himself. “Oh, she is in the gym, said she wanted to get a few reps in before class.”

Catelyn looked at her watch and frowned. “That’s not very smart, AP English starts in five minutes.”


	19. Water, Water Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Blade Warangel asked: 
> 
> “How about Jaime driving through a rather massive puddle, and soaking Brienne from head to foot on her way to work (or some job interview where she actually had to dress up). I'd have no idea where that would go from there. But the idea that Brienne would look like a drowned rat is making me laugh. I'm so mean. I'm sorry”
> 
> I love your evil mind, Lady. I hope you like this one, possibly the longest prompt yet. Really got away from me, but....well just read it

She hadn't wanted to go on this stupid date in the first place. Fucking blind date, what was she, like 12? And, that one hadn’t worked out so well either. This one was already off to a great start. She had decided to walk to the bistro that Sansa had directed her to, it was only ten blocks from her apartment and the late spring day was absolutely beautiful.

She had foolishly smiled along her walk down Silk Street, the bright sun seemed to ensure that nothing could go wrong, that maybe, just once, everything would turn out bright.

It was on the crosswalk of Silk and Baelish where it all went pear shaped. 

Brienne had noticed the burst hydrant and the urchins dousing themselves in the late spring sun. She had even smiled in memory of long summer days at the beach. She even felt herself drifting into the memory when it happened. 

She was doused, from head and along the very long trail to her sensible flats. Brienne opened her eyes in time to see the expensive Drogon SUV haul around the corner in complete ignorance of her plight. The foulest obscenities from her father’s workshop repertoire flooded from her mouth, unbidden. The children in the path of her stream grinned and shouted at her verbiage. Without further shame, she waved the finger at the driver, who, she was certain, did not see her salute.

Brienne stood on the corner, one block away from her final destination, and considered her options. She could turn and go home, but she did promise Sansa she would make it to the date. Apparently, this was some sort of big deal for her friend, and Brienne was certain her going on this blind date was part of Sansa’s recovery process after her father’s death.

She checked her skirt and sweater, wet but not necessarily the worst she had ever shown up to a date for. 

At least it wasn't hot sauce, but that was another story.

Brienne made her way into the restaurant and hauled herself into the restroom. The air dryer and a comb made her hair decent enough, and a re-apply of her lipstick had her at least feeling she could handle this. 

Besides, it wasn't as if this date would go anywhere. 

Sansa had warned her that the man was, blond, tall and very good looking. Brienne had frowned at that; sometimes she worried that her friends were too blind to really see just how homely Brienne was. 

She shrugged again, that’s love.

The man in question was already at the bar, working his way through something brown in a tumbler. Sansa didn’t lie, the man could have been a model. She squared her shoulders and made her way to the bar. 

“You look like a half drowned rat.” he smirked as she slid into the barstool next to him. “A very large, half drowned rat.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Brienne scuffed. ”Listen, i have had a bad day. Maybe we should just end this here.”

He considered her, his eyes dragged from her legs to her chest, then, comically, his eyes widened when considering her face. 

Same as always, Brienne mentally scuffed. It never fails. Brienne scooted off the stool and grabbed for her purse.

“Are you trying to ditch me?” He asked with another rakish grin. “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m drenched.” she said.

“I can see that, what happened? Did the wet t-shirt contest in the ladies room go a little crazy?” His gaze rested upon her chest, again. “Trust me when I tell you, Wench. That’s one contest you’ll never win.”

She was certain she was shouting. Perhaps it was the slow itch building under her slowly drying top, or the ruination of an otherwise beautiful day. Something, somewhere inside of her snapped. She let loose on her supposed date, ready to vent on high with no care of the other patrons eyeing her as if ready to call 911. “If you must know,” she said, her purse clutched in her meaty hands. ”Some asshole in a giant SUV splashed me on the way here.”

His smile broadened, and Brienne wanted to smack his pretty face until it was as ugly as her own. “That was you?” he asked, as casually as ordering another drink. “You have quite the sailor’s mouth.”

She was ready to bolt when his admission registered. “You splashed water all over someone and didn't bother to stop?” She screeched.

The blond just shrugged at her and gave her another long, leering look. “You’re obviously fine.” he said. “Come on, I think our table is ready.”

She looked at him, his casual arrogance and ethereal good looks. He carried himself like a man used to getting what he wanted.

But, not this time. “I think I have had enough. I showed up here as promised, and now I am officially ending this date.”

“No you’re not.” he grinned, his hand sliding onto her arm. “Think of how we can tell our grandchildren how I got you wet on our first date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for this prompt, Lady, I think I had the most fun writing this one. Poor Brienne, she just can;t catch a break!


	20. The Call of the Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justme accidentally asked:
> 
> “I've always had the headcanon of Jaime just hearing Brienne's voice and being totally intrigued, like her being a talk radio host and he's tuning in just to hear her, cuts meetings with his brother short because he needs to head home and put on the radio, becomes a regular caller”

The first time he heard her voice he got hard as a teenager groping around on a first date. He had been stuck in cross town traffic on his way home, early for once but only because he had a flight the next morning.

Her voice was the sultry sound of the sirens who drove men to their deaths and Jaime very nearly died trying to make it home with a raging hard on. 

He had become an addict after that, leaving meetings early to ensure he would make it home in time to listen to her talk show, only to fall onto his couch and masterbate as she spole about innocuos party leanings and liberal agendas. At some point, he realised his father would eviscerate him if he knew his son was drawn to a pointy headed liberal who saw corporations as the evil Empire.

When he proposed an acquisition of the radio station to the board members, his father shot him down and reminded him of the declining relevance of traditional media. 

He ended up leaving that meeting early as well; no sense in beating an already dead horse. 

Jaime discovered that the King's Landing radio station was part of a medium sized media outlet, run by no less than his brother in law. Well the brother of his brother in law.

Poised with this information; Tywin was more apt to stick it to a Baratheon and green lighted the purchase. 

Now, he stood poised to finally have what he wanted. They had taken hold of the company through All he had to do was be charming and be nice to the on air personalities. 

And where the seven hells was his siren, anyway? They had arranged this little party to announce the purchase and bring KLTK into the fold of Lannister Inc. She should be here, shouldn't she?

Until he saw a sow in silk. She was moving through the crowd of suited and bedazzled women like a giant in a nursery. The sow moved around the room, greeting well wishers and corporates alike. Her blond head was at least four inches above the rest of the party. He watched as his brother tugged at her dress and gave her the infamous Lannister grin, the one that could liquify panties at a hundred paces. 

He smiled at his brother’s charms, even at his size his brother had little trouble charming anything in a dress. Though, the large woman with the face made for radio was definitely not his brother’s usual type.

Something Tyrion said made her laugh, she shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. He noticed them angling in his direction and, with solemn resignation, he realized his brother was bringing the giant to meet him. He squared his shoulders and dragged another drink from a passing server. He would have to be good and drunk to talk to her; Jaime looked down at his glass as they made their way to him. A face like that? He was gonna need a few more drinks. Maybe the open bar could open a tap.

“Jaime,” his brother said as he was contemplating surviving a ten story drop from the bathroom window. “I’d like you to meet KLTK’s very own most popular talk host.”

The woman (was she a woman?) giggled and held out her hand to Jaime. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Lannister. I am excited for this new era for KTLK.”

That voice.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Jaime was frozen in time. It was her. He felt his blood move through his veins one cell at a time, felt the room shift and go sideways. He didn't take her hand, he only stared.

When he felt his pants get tighter, he knew it was over. 

“Jaime?” Tyrion smiled. “Is there something wrong?”

“I gotta go.” He turned on his heel and shambled his way into the bathroom. His cock made it into the stall ten seconds before he did. Damn her and her voice!


	21. Bride'smaidzilla  Vs.  Mouthra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KsW asked"
> 
> "How about, you're the only grommsman tall enough for this bride's maid"

Margaery had, quite literally, lost her mind. 

She stood in the antechamber of the Great Sept of Baelor directing traffic as if it was the final ten seconds of a tied match. Brienne sighed, she had allowed her best friend to wrestle her into a rose covered gaudy bridesmaid’s dress. Margaery’s cousin was maid of honor and there were eight more included in the party. 

“He’s the only one….that could meet your...stature.” Margaery had explained for the twelfth time as they lined up for the rehearsal dinner. Each time she brought it up there was an apologetic tone that Brienne had assumed was the implication that she was tall. Fucking tall. “Please, just this once?”

Brienne looked around at the other ‘couples’ in the wedding party but chose to keep her mouth shut regarding the height of the groom. It was her day, and Brienne sighed into her fate with an inner resistance. She had heard enough about her best friend’s soon to be brother in law; in the nicest terms, he was an ass.

The rehearsal dinner had began with the practice run for the next day. Margaery was an absolute dictator and made sure everyone was paired with the right groomsman.

“Looks like you’re my date this weekend.” The blonde man stood and Brienne realised, she was at least two inches taller than him. “Whoa, I didn't know there was that much gaberdine in King’s Landing!”

Brienne looked down at her sensible pantsuit and considered which way murder could be justifiable. She reminded herself for the thousandth time that Margaery, was in fact, her best friend.

“Jaime,” Tyrion’s voice came from somewhere far below the two. “Can’t you just be nice for once? It’s my wedding.”

Jaime’s eyes raked over her as she stood in place ready to proceed through the rehearsal. “I was being nice,” The asshole sneered. “I could have said something about wrestling a bear into a pantsuit must have taken a hell of a lot of patience and an unreal amount of ketamine.”

She hadn’t realized she’d punched him until the sting of her knuckles made her wince.

“I should not have done that.” she mumbled as she wrapped ice into a towel as they sat in the sept’s kitchen.

Jaime sat holding his nose and considering the woman who had marred his face. “Well, this is going to be one for the photos.” His face broke into a beatific smile as she attended to his wounds. “I suppose you owe me now, since you bruised me and ruined my perfect face.”

She huffed but continued to tend to the groom’s brother, who had only laughed as his older brother had nearly flown across the room from the blow. “That’ll learn him,” the groom had muttered and excused himself to go find some sacramental wine. 

Brienne tipped his head back to stem the blood flow. “You should learn to keep your mouth shut around strangers. “

“A date, you fighting Wench. You owe me a date now.” He pinched his nose and grinned around the blood. "And no punching!"


	22. It's Getiin' Hot In Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 asked:
> 
> So, what if Jaime is someone rich (let's face it, he always is), on a corporate business trip. To unwind and keep with a routine, he goes to a local swimming pool (some gym, sports center, whatever - it has to have sauna). And then, for whatever reason, after a practice there is no one to ask for a direction aka where the hell is sauna... So, he follows that one guy to try and catch up with him and ask him for a direction, but that one guy just enters... drum rolls, please,... sauna!!! Jaime, being Jaime, decides to go commando (also know as nekkid!), enters sauna and the guy turns out to be... we all gasp in sooooo unexpected surprise... Brienne!

Fucking Highgarden and it's sensible yet ostentatious ways. He fumed as he turned around and around in the luxurious day spa. Even the men’s section was as frilly as his sister's underwear drawer.

Jaime wandered around the mostly empty spa; he had come in the morning after an early meeting that Did. Not. Go. Well. He knew he would need to treat himself to something to calm his nerves. It was too early to pop open a bottle of scotch he kept in his travel bag, and moving around his hotel suite was sure to drive him crazy. 

He’d called the front desk and was assured that, not only was The Golden Rose the most high end spa in the entire city, but that they would schedule everything for him.

And they had, except for a damn map to the one thing he wanted; the sauna.

He watched the tall football player move around. He had been the first person Jaime saw as he wandered around the varying temperatured pools. Jaime saw the large man open a door that emitted rolls of steam.

“Aha!” He follower into the steam room. A thought occurred to him, and in a flash he left the towel he had been wearing in the provided bin. “Best to get comfy.” He grinned to himself and entered the room.

The football player was in the far corner, he had decided to leave his towel on. Strange, the burly man wore his towel higher up than most men would, but Jaime was aware that some people carried far more modesty than he. 

“What are you doing?” A female voice came from the far corner. He even looked around for a moment trying to assess where the woman was. “Uhm, getting comfortable.”

It was then that he realized, as the large blonde’s face turned red and scrunched into a deep scowl. “This is the women’s sauna! And, you're….you’re…” She placed her large paws over her face. “...naked!”

Jaime grinned, stretched himself onto the wooden bench with his legs open for air. She was certainly an ugly woman, but she did have eyes that reminded him of a particularly beautiful piece by Mozart. “I couldn't find the men’s.” He drawled. “But, since I am already here, I won't tell if you don’t.”

Her gasp at his display only served to make him grin wider "Unless, you want to take off that towel and prove this isn't the men's sauna."


	23. Cunt Cap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kkiM Asked:
> 
> Brienne was working part time in a five and dime  
> Her boss was Mr. Tarly  
> He told her several times that he didn't like her kind  
> Said she was too tall and ugly  
> Seems she was doing something close to everything  
> But different than the day before.  
> That's when she saw him  
> Oooo she saw him  
> He walked in through the out door. 
> 
> Then, DanelN added:
> 
> ok PLEASE make Jaime wear a raspberry beret, maybe his roots need a touch up. lol

Most people got to spend the summer between high school and college backpacking through Essos, or on a gap year of toiling in Braavos while soaking up the local culture.

But not her, Brienne had to work through her summers since she was old enough to hold a paycheck. Her family had once been the proud rulers of this island. Now, they were lucky to keep food on the table and clothes on the backs of their tallest daughter. 

Brienne looked around the small shop, it was owned by a man she hated; Randyl Tarly was a sexist, piggish man with stern ideas about where a woman’s place was. He often gave the male employees higher pay and softer work schedules. 

The store had been mostly empty all shift, and was empty now, a quiet had descended upon the island store as if everyone else had something better to do.

It was a quiet Friday afternoon, one where she would have rather been out sailing or chasing her sisters around the beach. She was daydreaming about the waters around Tarth when the door marked ‘Out’ blew open as if a storm had suddenly set upon the island.

In truth, it had.

He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, blond with eyes the color of the Evenfall forest nestled deep within the island. He strolled in as if he owned the place. He only wore a pair of Spank Boy khaki shorts, and a purplish red beret set jauntily over his blonde curls. His chest was chiseled from granite.

He grinned at her as he passed by the front counter. “Sunblock?” he asked as he moved.

She pointed toward the far aisle and he gave her a perfect smile before cantoring off toward his destination.

Mr. Tarly chose that time to emerge from his office. He spent most of his time in that back office, leaving most of the work to the employees. “Tarth,” he sneered, “it’s your night to close.”

Anger rose in her, not for the first time. She had told him on three separate occasions over the last two weeks that she needed the day off. It was her sisters’ birthdays today, the one thing she needed was to be there before she headed off to college. They were close and at 12, feared that their older sister would leave them behind. “I was supposed to be off all day, Mr. Tarly. I have my sisters’ birthday today.”

He looked her up and down, “There are more of you? Gods help that they are the ones that got the looks.” He shuffled around the front counter and stood near the register. “Or, are they all towheaded ugly cows like you?”

“Can’t Hyle or Red do it?” she asked, certain there was no way out of this one. He never let the guys close at night. They were always too busy with partying, whoring, or making disgusting bets. 

Tarly turned toward the register and began counting bills out of it. “Of course it wouldn't be a date, someone like you, you’d be lucky for a pity fuck in college. Or a gang rape.”

“Mr. Tarly, that is wildly-” A flash of gold from the corner of her eye made her nearly jump from the back of the counter. By the time she realized what was going on, her boss was out cold on the floor along the side of the counter. Green bills littered the area, and some still fluttered in their descent.

The man with the shit beret was standing in front of the counter, shaking his right hand as if he had broken it. “That asshole deserves to be wearing the Cunt Cap today.”

“Why are you naked?” she asked the stranger, leaned on the counter and considering the man he had hit. Even with her boss out cold and the implications of all that came with it, Brienne could not deny that he was a god cut from granite. His abs glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and his cock was perhaps the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The blond grinned, still shaking his left hand and placed the box of Miss Clairol on the counter. It was then that she noticed his pubic hair. His cock must have been catching a good breeze, for it seemed to move on its own volition as he studied her.

“Had to make sure the color was a match,” he said, pointing at his purple colored crotch. “My brother’s idea of retaliation. As if having to wear the Cunt Cap for wasn't enough.” He lifted the box and shook it at her. “I would hate for the carpet and draperies to be a mismatch.”

“Your brother did that to you?”

The blond shook his head. “No, I am certain he hired one of his...girlfriends to do the dirty deed.” He looked at Mr. Tarly again, and for a moment, Brienne was certain he would kick him. Instead he made a show of hocking up a loogie and leaving it as close to the prone man as he could. “Why do you put up with that asshole, anyway?”

Brienne shrugged. “I need the money. Which, I probably won't have after this.”

He cocked his head and smiled. “You said something about a birthday party? I love a good birthday party, me.”

Brienne smiled, “Maybe you’ll want to get your clothes back on first?” He grinned even bigger, his emerald eyes danced to a tune Brienne wanted to hear. She pointed to the beret on his head, which, she realized matched the color of his pubic hair. “Then, you can tell me about this Cunt Cap.”


	24. Hot For Teacher's ASSistant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For nanie who asked: 
> 
> “ Brienne is new in college and Jaime is her professor;”

The only thing to do was to smack his brother across the head. Hard. “Are you insane?” he asked him for the umpteenth time during their five minute conversation regarding his infatuation with his TA. “She’s your TA, do you know how cliche that is?”

Jaime shrugged, managing to dodge another smack from his brother. It wasn't his fault his TA had some sort of underground sexiness. When she walked, her long legs moved with a grace he had never seen before. Her legs went on forever; her ass undulating as her hips swayed through the halls of King’s Landing University’s Medieval History Department.

His brother got another smack in. “You’re thinking about her now!” he accused.

Jaime could do nothing but offer a second shrug. “So what if I am, at least she is not an undergraduate. That would just be wrong, and creepy. And so Dr. Baelish of me.”

Tyrion angled his head and studied his brother. Jaime wasn't the kind of person to pursue a student, and he was certain his brother had had plenty of offers. “You really like this girl.” he shook his head. “What is she like, 12?”

Jaime flashed his brother an angry look. “Again, that is definitely Dr. Baelish’s preference. And, she’s 24. She’s working on her doctoral in weaponry of the Targaryen era.”

“First or second?” Tyrion asked, taking another long sip of his Arbor gold.

“First.” Jaime’s smile held all the guile and pride of a man in love. 

“Impressive.” Tyrion had to admit. “But, you know what you have to do, then. Right?”

Jaime nodded. He would miss working with her, but having her in another department would keep him out of an academic scandal that could ruin his teaching career. The thought of running home to work at his father’s company was enough to shock him back into reality. “I know.” he sighed. 

“Jaime, I love you, but you need to get rid of her,”

“I know.”


	25. Dorne, Dorne You Want Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WeirdDayDreamingFanGirl, Isola_Caramella and TeamGwenee were robbed. They all produced beautiful renditions of my second favorite fic trope. I must’ve read those three fics like, ten times each. So, the theft has occurred and I have to say there are not enough of these fics out there.

He considered the odd pair before him. “I’m sorry, you do know this is The Nymeria Wedding Chapel, right?”

The pair of blonde giants joined hands and grinned at each other. “We want to get married.” The man asserted, his eyes cast upon the woman next to him.

He sighed, Salvatore Rhoyne was accustomed to half drunk, half stoned or otherwise stupid people wandering into his chapel at all hours of the night. These two, were definitely different.

For one, they had shown up in the middle of the day, as soon as he had opened and lit the neon sign. They had been waiting outside for him to open, hands entwined and faces upturned into something akin to utter joy.

“We’d like to get married. Today. Now.” The blond man said with a cutting smile. He looked back to the woman, taller and broader than him with a face like a Mack truck. “Today, right?” he grinned. She nodded and a bright blush crawled over her sturdy face.

“Well,” Salvatore offered back. “You’ve come to the right place. I assume you have both agreed to this endeavor?” The two giants nodded and followed him into his office. “Come on, Wench.” He heard the man say, “The sooner we get this done, the sooner…”

The woman shoved him playfully but smiled. “Jaime,” she said in a voice that held no malice. 

They filled out the paperwork they were given as they sat in his office. Salvatore tried to pretend he wasn't listening to them. “Your middle name is Lynus?” The woman asked as she leaned over the man’s paperwork. “And, that is a fairly rare blood type, Jaime.’

The tall man, Jaime, smiled and said. “Blue bloods, My Lady. We tend to have odd blood types.” He seemed to put the matter aside, for it fell silent but he spoke again as he wrote. “My parents were first cousins.”

The woman, her face scrunched into a scowl. “Well, that explains some things.” she spoke softly, almost endearingly, but a scowl marred her face. “I suppose this is for the best, then.” She smiled at him then, and Salvatore could almost see the electricity between the two of them. He found he wanted to know more. For science, of course.

“Some standard questions before you two take the Plunge.” He said in his most professional manner, best to not let them know he was just being...nosy. “When did you two meet?”

The pair considered each other for a moment and grinned together. Jaime, spoke first. “This morning.” he said, never taking his eyes off of the woman.

“Well, while it was early this morning, it was technically still last night.” The woman added, Brienne. He could see her first name from the paperwork she still scrawled upon. 

“Yes,” Jaime nodded. “Early this morning. We were at the bar--”

“You were at the bar, Jaime. I was trying to go up to my room.”

Jaimer turned to Salvatore, his face beaming. “She was here in Dorne to get married. To someone else.”

“Jaime!” Brienne screeched. “You don’t have to tell everything.” She turned guileless blue eyes on the him then, and Salvatore’s breath nearly caught in his chest. “What you must think of me?”

“Settle down, Wench.” Jaime placed a hand on his future wife’s knee. “I’m sure he’s heard it all before.”

Salvatore nodded. He had.

Then, Jaime spoke again. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” 

Salvatore spread his arms in supplication of their location. “Ser, I run a quickie wedding sept, love at first sight is my peddled wares. Or, love at first drunk. Whichever works at the time.”

Brienne ducked her head, but Jaime only beamed again. “We would have been here sooner, but I wanted to make sure she was good and sober. That we both were.” He leaned over and kissed the woman beside her then. “No room for dispute, question nor running.”

“I wasn't running.” Brienne blushed. “Hyle wasn't the right one.”

“Of course not, what bride wouldn’t want a groom who plays tongue hockey with the coat check girl.” Jaime leaned in again, but he placed his arm around her. “I’m so glad he was a dick.”

“Love at first sight,” Jaime spoke again, but he was looking into the eyes of the woman. “When I saw her, I nearly fell off my bar stool.”

“That’s because you were drunk,” she smiled. 

“And you were there to catch me.” He replied.

“Always, Jaime. “ Brienne nodded. “Always.”

“We talked all night--” He tilted his head at her when she cleared her throat. “Morning.” He grinned. “I wasn't going to let those blue eyes get away from me.”

“You followed me into the bathroom!” She accused.

He smiled and shook his head. “There were windows there, Brienne. Once you actually agreed to my proposal, I wanted to make sure you didn't run.” He turned his green eyes to Salvatore then, “I couldn't lose her, even if it was to her own foolishness.”

Brienne shoved her fiance, “No, only to your own stupidity. Idiot.” But that same smile crept across her features. 

“Can we get on with this?” Jaime asked him, Salvatore nearly jumped at his question. “There are an awful lot of exits here. And,” He pulled the literally blushing bride closer to him on the couch. “I really want to get to the good part.”

Salvatore smiled. Twenty years in this business, and this had been the best wedding by far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually kinda sad this is almost over. I have had so much fun bringing all of your prompts to fruition. Thanks so much to all of you wonderful prompters, readers, kudosers and commenters. I have loved every single one of your comments and kudos. You guys made my March!


	26. Nightman, Or Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikkim asked:
> 
> Jaime is sitting watching TV in his apartment. Brienne crawls in through the window.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Jaime thought to himself as he reached around the back of his chair for his RiverRun Slugger and hefted the weight in his hands. The sound of someone on his fire escape had nearly drowned out the seventh inning stretch. 

Living in King’s Landing wasn't particularly dangerous as long as you understood that everything and everyone was out to kill, rob or rape you.

Or, all three.

The man made crashed through his living room window, a man in a wedding dress. The size of the man, even prone, made Jaime tighten his grip on the bat. He stood aside, along the wall, trying to angle for a good shot. Jaime knew he only had one chance to nail a guy that big, wedding dress or no, the rippled muscles along the arms of the straw blonde gave little away as to the sheer strength of his intruder

The guy was big, and Jaime was a little more than apprehensive at only managing to piss off the intruder. He mentally kicked himself for leaving his cell charging in his bedroom.

The body thudded onto the floor of his living room, Jaime poised to swing for the cheap seats when the large, lumbering figure rolled over. “Please,” a shockingly feminine voice pleaded. “I need your help.”


	27. Chasing Phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 asked:
> 
> Phantom of the Opera (with happy ending - if it can fit into 300 words), where Brienne is Phantom and Jaime is diva

“I’ve been singing every night, hoping you would come to me.” He leans against the large framed woman and looks into her eyes. “I never knew anyone could love someone they never met. “

Brienne pulled the beautiful man closer to her. “You could have died out there, I had to make sure you were safe. I would not have come out if…”

Jaime kissed her full lips, one of the only parts of her uncovered. “I’m glad you did, I’m glad I am here with you, right now.” He nuzzled into her again, “Take off your mask, I want to see the face of the woman I love.”

Brienne shook her head. “You don't love me, and if you see me...you’ll run.”

Jaime placed his hands on her mask. “Let me be the judge of that.” he said. “Let me show you that love exists without limits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry December, I am not a fan of Phantom. This was all I could come up with for this one. Well, I did have a longer idea, but it had little to do with the play, other than these two meeting at a showing.


	28. Eat Me I'm a Danish!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> justme asked: 
> 
> “brienne's a food blogger, jaime's a chef, she writes how his food is totally overpraised (he doesn't know but hers really was bad when she came to his restaurant cuz the apprentice fooked it up)

Brienne slammed the door of her crap apartment. It had been a shitstorm of blowback fr her most recent blog post. It wasn't her fault that she was just telling what she experienced. Everyone loved that damn restaurant; had praised it from the North to Dorne. So what if she didn't find anything particularly special about it. 

People just love to praise a famous name. 

“Ow!” The sound had come from behind her recently shut door. Brienne looked through the peephole and saw nothing. Just as she was beginning to consider cultivating a scathing reply on her blog, the doorbell rang. 

The man standing in front of her door with large white bags at his feet was the last person she had expected to show up. “Brienne Tarth?” he asked with that arrogance that most chefs seemed born to cantor. 

“So what if i am?” She asked with arms folded, blocking his entrance. 

He smiled then, and Brienne was struck by his looks, his face looked like something that one would keep under one’s pillow, but yet here he was. In the flesh. “You write that blog. The Edible Pen.”

She said nothing, just continued to glare at the beautiful man in front of her. 

“You made some scathing declarations about my restaurant.” He said without a trace of malice. In fact, Brienne could see he seemed to be enjoying himself. 

“So, you came all this way to slum it in FleaBottom to what? Tell me I am wrong?”

Jaime leaned over and picked up the bags at his feet. “No,” he said, barging his way through her and into her apartment. “I came to prove you wrong.” 

“Mr. Lannister, I really don't have time for this--”

“I wasn't even cooking that night,” he said over his shoulder. “My apprentice, Bronn. He was on that night. I had a family thing. My nephew had gotten himself arrested of all things.”

“I’m sure that is what you would tell anyone, Mr. Lannister.”

“Jaime.” he said turning on the million watt smile that had been threatening since he had barged through her front door. 

Jaime headed straight for her shoebox kitchen as if he had some inborn homing device for food spaces. Brienne watched him search her counters for space. “You’re a food blogger with the most anti food kitchen i have ever had the displeasure to come across.”

“No one told you to come.” she said.

Jaime looked around the kitchen again and took out his phone. He stepped back into the living room while she tried to assess what he had planned on cooking in her apartment. “Get dressed.” he said as he came back into the kitchen. 

“Excuse me?” Brienne had had enough. “I didn't invite you in, you came bursting through with all of this food and now you want me to change my clothes?”

Jaime considered her for a far too long moment. His face broke into a large, feral smile. “I just closed my restaurant for the night so I can feed you a seven course meal. The least you can do is put on something...presentable.”

“No,” Brienne shook her head, opened the door and made to shoo him out. “You don't get to come into my house, denigrate my kitchen, taunt me about my wardrobe and insist on taking me out to your restaurant. “ She stared at the man who seemed to be firmly rooted in his stance. He wasn't moving toward the front door, nor did he seem inclined to move. “Get out.” She said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title of this one comes from an old parody of Rock Me Amadeus


	29. A Comedy of Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 Asked:
> 
> Jaime goes to urologist. Urologist turns out to be Brienne... You take it from there. 
> 
>  
> 
> justme planted the seed, December 13 fed the debauchery.

The appointment Jaime had made for eight,  
Was already running ten minutes late.  
Jaime sat uncomfortably on the papered bed,  
Too many thoughts running through his head.  
He was half naked and not happy he had to see  
Someone about his most sacred anatomy.

As he considered canceling,the door to the examining room   
Opened and Jaime nearly swooned.  
The doctor was large with pale blonde hair  
And a face that could curdle milk with a glare  
He shrunk back a bit as the beast moved quick  
“You’re the doctor?” he asked, “To examine my dick?”

The tall thing glowered and it's face screwed   
“No need to be foul, Mr. Lannister. Nor crude.”  
Jaime grinned when he realized, despite it's size.  
This doctor was female, with astonishing eyes.  
“My regular doctor,” he insisted, “where is he at?”  
Jaime asked woman sent to examine his bat.

“I’m Dr. Tarth,” she said with a scowl. “Dr. Pycelle is absent..”  
“He took a bad fall yesterday, and asked me to fill in.”  
Jaime wasn't convinced, the girl looked too young  
But he found himself considering what she could do with her tongue.  
“You’re a urologist? Isn't that an odd profession?”  
“For a woman, if female is your designation.”

The blonde doctor turned red, her hands clenched the clipboard.  
“Perhaps you can reschedule for when Pycelle returns?”  
“No,” Jaime said, his decision suddenly clear.   
“We’ll do this right now, I’m already here.”  
She seemed to be uncomfortable at the prospect.  
Of having his junk on display to inspect. 

But like a good soldier, she began the examination  
Everything was fine, without further explanation.  
Her hands were large, but surprisingly gentle.  
And that was when Jaime’s cock went mental   
His hands shook, his cock against him conspired  
Blood flowed to his nethers, he began to perspire.

With her hands on his dick, Jaime was most certain;  
This would end with his shame all over the curtains.  
He willed his dick to behave, this was most definitely creepy  
To allow this strange woman to make his cock weepy  
He struggled to get himself under control, his dick took a rest  
While she washed her hands and prepared the final test

With fervent prayer, he pleaded and begged.  
That his dick would behave and not consider her legs  
Jaime closed his eyes, he argued and pleaded  
That his cock would stay flaccid; the blood receded  
Please, oh please, you’re gonna scare her indeed!  
Was the only plea that his cock gave heed.

Until the part that every sane man does dread.  
When the doctor asks one to cough and turn his head.  
“Listen, Doc,” Jaime said with a smile. Already bent with cheeks in the air.  
“This could be embarrassing if you go on any further there.”  
“Mr. Lannister,” Dr. Tarth insisted, “this is a professional endeavor.”  
He turned and grinned, “first, don’t you think I deserve a nice dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December, I think our muses are in some really fucked up relationship. I don't know whether to allow them to continue seeing each other or ban them from their play dates.


	30. Life's A Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ellethom asked:
> 
> So, its your anniversary, how did you meet the most wonderful man in the world?

She was stupid to agree to write a stupid article about stupid St. Baelor’s Day. Stupid holiday with stupid half drunk freshman dodging around and wearing green.

Brienne hadn’t wanted to do the article for the University’s paper, but no one else in the writer's’ meeting wanted to do it, and Brienne had always been a sucker for a lost cause. She’d agreed to do it with a sour face that made Red Ronnet laugh and warn her against her face freezing like that. 

Goodwin, the faculty head of the paper warned Red again, but the damage was already done. Before anything else could be said, Brienne had agreed to cover the stupid event.

Now, sitting with her pencils and paper, Brienne studied those there for fun. There was free food, loud music, and everything dyed a horrid shade of green. Someone had even shown up with fake snakes covering them in emulation of Baelor the Blessed’s triumph over the slithering beasts.

The gorgeous blond man stood in the food line. Brienne had only raised her head when she felt someone staring at her. It wasn't unusual for her to be stared at; her height, build and unfortunate face had caused her to often mutter about taking a picture so it'll last longer. 

He was staring at her as if she were naked. Brienne hunched herself further under his scrutiny. She tried to look at her notes, but only succeeded in feeling the ardent stare of the beautiful man’s steady gaze.

Flight, it was the only response she could think to do. Brienne made her way to the women’s bathroom just outside of the student union. She dashed cold water from the faucet as jaunty music continued to pour from the event. Brienne knew she would have to return to the festivities; she’d promised to cover it for the paper, and the photographer was already taking pictures and making the rounds. 

Sighing into her fate, Brienne made her way back into the student union, hoping the blond man had already found something else to hold his interest. 

He was sitting at her table, the one she had chosen far enough away from everyone to work quietly. His lead legs stretched out in front of him as he read her notes. When he looked up and their eyes met, his face broke into a smile that could have put the angels to shame. Brienne took her seat with all the dignity she could muster. 

Why did he have to sit here? At her table? Why? She’d just wanted to be left alone to finish notes for the article then crawl back to her apartment in peace.

“What are you writing?” he asked after she had ignored him for an entire minute.

“I am taking notes.” She muttered.

“On how to party?” He grinned then. “Best way to learn that is to get in there and just do it.”

“Shouldn't you take your own advice?” She turned to the man and found his green eyes too fascinating to look away from. 

He did laugh then, and pointed to her notes. “You’re a journalist.’

“Hardly,” she shook her head. “I write for the university newspaper.”

“So? That’s journalism.” He smiled again. “That’s why you’re here. I’ve never seen you before.”

Brienne bristled. “I’m here to work, yes. I found this nice quiet table in the back of the Student Union so I could work. Alone. In peace.”

“I came for the free food. I always come for the free food.” He smiled then. “Poor medical students don't have the luxury of eating everyday.” He stretched in his seat. “I’m Jaime, by the way.”

“And I’m not interested.” she huffed.

But they sat there, at that quiet table for four hours. Talking. By the time the workers came to break down the party, they had been talking for six hours straight, and Brienne, could not for the life of her, believe that they had talked about everything, had argued over trivial things and issues of mass importance. He had somehow managed to drive from her, 21 years of conversations that she had usually managed to avoid. 

A week later, when the paper came out, the picture that was chosen by the editors was of the St. Baelor’s party in the student union in full swing. People were eating, drinking, and dancing. The photographer had even captured the man with the snake shirt dancing with a red head.

In the far back of the photo, away from everything and everyone, were two people, hunched together and captured forever in the first buds of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betcha thought I forgot ya! Nope, I had a vacation and it was my anniversary week...so. 
> 
> This was supposed to be posted on my anniversary, but I got kidnapped, kidnapped I tells ya. 
> 
> The last meet cute will be posted tomorrow, and then the fun begins, lol. I will post a chapter 32 where all the voting can go. 
> 
> Sorry again to leave you all hanging, this meet cute was sort of my meet cute, there was so much else that it would not have fit into the word count (what word count?)
> 
> Anywho.


	31. Which One of You Punched Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13 asked:
> 
> Brienne is young and full of desire to serve her country. She goes to recruiting center where she meets snarky and everything-we-love-about-Jaime recruiting officer!

The asshole known as Ronnet Connington or ‘Red’ to his fellow idiot friends, sat in the far corner of the interrogation room of the local cop shop, sporting a shiner that covered nearly half his face.

He had refused to say who had hit him, and PFCs Hunt and Mullendore were as closed mouthed as a whore on payday. 

Jaime sighed, it wasn't his usual job to play investigator, but three of his trainees came in looking like they had lost a fight with a Clegane, and Jaime found he wanted answers. “So, you were at a bar, one of the locals?” He asked. Jaime had been called to come and collect three of his errant and least promising charges in the middle of the night, he was already in a foul mood when the quiet game started.

Mullendore nodded, but it was Hunt who spoke. “We just wanted to blow off some steam, Lieutenant. You know how it is?” 

Jaime, in fact, did not know how it was. The three PFCs were here to train for hand to hand combat, which apparently, they were not very good at. “So, you were out, at a local bar. Blowing off steam. And, what? A pack of rabid wolves attacked?”

The silence from the three was starting to irk the seasoned veteran. Fifteen years in, and Jaime had seen a lot in that time. But, this? Usually soldiers were up for stories, comparing notes, showing battle scars. These three were suddenly closed mouthed about what happened, and Jaime wanted to know what had them so shaken. 

Mullendore shrank back from Jaime’s question, Connington seemed to find the opposite wall more interesting than the conversation and Hunt’s face began to go red as his friend’s nickname. “No, Ser.” Hunt said finally, his feet shuffled in place. “It was only one...person.”

Jaime could not help the smile that erupted across his face. “One? Only one? I would like to meet the man that did this to all of you. Not a Clegane then?”

They all shook their heads in lieu of an answer. “So, this local. Where can I find him?”

Red spoke then, “I don't think that is necessary, Ser. Sh--He wasn't anything to write home about.”

Hunt shot his friend a look that did not go unnoticed by Jaime. A look that spoke of trouble and amended stories. “Red, just tell him.”

“Yeah,” Jaime offered, moving closer to the still seated man with the mauled face. “Tell me.”

Before the PFC could answer with truth, lies, or anything else. The door to the interrogation room opened and a shadow outlined from the bright light of the police station made all four of the men look up. 

The hulking form was accompanied by two officers; they made their way into the room and sat the large figure into a chai. The three men hunched from the intrusions, and Jaime knew it wasn't the officers they feared.

“She insisted.” The younger officer said to Jaime. “Said she didn't mean to go ‘medieval’ on your men, but they were particularly foul.”

Jaime studied the person brought into the room. It was a woman, the largest woman that the gods could ever have formed. She sat in the chair the officers had placed her into, and didn't have a single mark on her.

Not a one.

Jaime looked at the downcast faces of his men. “So, I see there has been some parts left out of your stories.” He straightened up and met the eyes of the blond woman. Her eyes, gods, her eyes were like a favorite song on repeat. “Ma’am.” he nodded. “Care to tell me what happened?”

Red flinched at Jaime’s tone, “Whatever she says, it's a lie. Three against one. Who are you going to believe?” 

Jaime wasn't a man bent on careless violence, he had seen enough real war to realize that life was too short for careless fighting. “I’m going to believe that you three were taken down by a woman.” He turned a quick look at her. “A very large woman, but a woman nonetheless.”

The girl, yes she was young, seemed to relax at his words. “I wasn't intent on fighting.” she said. “But, these three attacked me, I had no choice.”

“No Choice.” he said to the three PFC’s “What did they do?”

As the story unfolded, Jaime became angrier and angrier. “Ma’am,” he said at the end, after the pace of long silence. “I appear to be light three trainees, now. Have you ever considered a career in the military?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went in a wholly different direction than I had intended. Hope you like it December, I only had one prompt of yours not filled. 
> 
> That's it guys, the last of them. Please go to the next chapter to give your top five,


	32. The Big Vote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!

Hey all!

First, I want to say thank you to everyone who has commented, favorited, bookmarked, kudosed and lurked this fic for this month. 

I actually did this on a whim,. and wanted to challenge my writing by dancing to others' music. I really liked the music and I hope you liked the dance (shimmy shimmy).

So, here is the deal. I am going to take one of these fics and turn it into a full story. At least 5000 words. 

With smut.

I ask that you comment here, on this chapter, with your top five. Unfortunately, there can be only one, but maybe I could be coerced into two if given enough time. 

Here is where it goes a bit cray cray (as my students say).

I send out a challenge to all of you out there who have not written anything, or who have written hundreds of fics. take any of these and make them your own. Really, I won't mind. The point of writing is to share it. My favorite book, Jane Eyre (sorry Mikki) was actually Bronte writing fanfiction of Jane Austen (no, really. She read a little piece in one of Austen's books about a governess who had married well and ran with it.) Shakespeare wrote fanfiction, Lewis Carroll, and so many others. 

So, My challenge to all of you smart, creative, wonderful types in this fandom is to go nuts, work it baby, work it. 

Or not.

Writing has been my passion since I was old enough to form my letters, I would dearly love to see everyone puting pen to paper and creating

That's my rant. Name your five fave (or none if you hated all of them) and give me a couple of weeks.

I love this fandom so much, thanks guys, I am actually sorry this has to end, but all great things must (or, not so great in this case).

Thanks to all of you!


	33. The Final Tally

You guys are so awesome, thanks for all of your love, votes, encouragement, and violent threats (December). The winner has been tallied and the fic has actually already been started.

The winner?

I think we all know who won this one. Lost With Translations. It has like 20 votes. The nearest runner up has like 7 (Water, Water Everywhere). 

So, give me a couple of weeks and your smut with some plot will be posted. 

 

Thanks all, you guys really are the best fandom out there. Not toxic, loving and accepting. 

St. PaulieGirl, this will be gifted to you since its your prompt. 

If I ever have the bright idea to do this again, will someone please shoot me?


End file.
